


Hush

by Cheshyr



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, The Fabulous Killjoys (Danger Days) Are Not MCR, nothing explicit only discussed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshyr/pseuds/Cheshyr
Summary: “Hey, what happened to your guys’ parents anyway?”“Ghoul!”“Do city kids even, like, have parents?”“GHOUL!”(Kobra Kid and Party Poison used to have parents. They remember them very differently.)
Relationships: Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	1. Present Day

**Author's Note:**

> Me? Getting into a fandom ten years late? It's more likely than you think.  
> Please heed the tags- nothing is explicitly described, but it's still heavily implied, so stay safe.

“Hey, what happened to your guys’ parents anyway?”

“Ghoul!”

“Do city kids even, like, have parents?”

“ _GHOUL!_ ”

Jet Star hurled a half empty can of Power Pup at the smaller killjoy’s head, not even worrying about wasting food in his desperation to get the other boy to _shut the fuck up_. He’s awarded with a yelp and a loud curse as the can hits its target perfectly, Fun Ghoul losing his balance where he was sitting on one of the diner tables and crashing to the ground.

He knew finding that stash of liquor was gonna lead to trouble. To be fair, he could understand Ghoul’s curiosity- both of them were desert born, knowing next to nothing about what it meant to be raised in Battery City, and it wasn’t like this was the first time they had asked about the Venom Brothers’ previous life and what it entailed, even without alcohol. But still. Jet felt like some tact would maybe be appreciated here.

In the booth across from where Ghoul was now laying on the floor, the brothers blinked in surprise at the random question. Kobra Kid was on his third drink of the evening, while Party Poison had passed as he usually did when it came to alcohol and was instead sipping on a flat soda. 

Kobra frowned, looking down at Ghoul as he sat up and rubbed his aching head, “City kids do have parents, for the most part, but especially early on after the wars it was pretty common for BL/i to snatch them up.”

“Oh,” Fun Ghoul looked at the floor, a sad expression on his face, “Is that… what happened with you guys?”

“Ghoul-” Jet sighed, preparing to scold the smaller boy, but Kobra cut him off.

“It’s fine,” he waved him off, “It was a long time ago, and it’s just another thing BL/i fucked up for us,” he scowled, downing the rest of his drink swiftly before glancing at his brother with a subtle frown of concern.

Party was leaning his head on one hand, staring out the window with a blank face. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t say anything. But then he spoke, voice dull and flat, “Our mom died when Kobra was about three. She’d been sick for a long time, from all the chemical shit left over from the wars. And our father… he… he got taken when you were… what, ten?”

“Yeah,” the blonde gripped his empty glass tightly as he glared at the tabletop, “I think he had been skipping pills or something; he was never as mindless and robotic as most of the other adults, y’know? He was more… there.” For a brief moment, Jet and Ghoul are reminded of just how young Kobra is. A kid, just like his name said, who was hurt and confused and mourning. Then, his eyes harden and he spits out, “And someone ratted him out. Probably one of our neighbors, who fucking knows. Just know that one day the fuckers in white showed up and dragged him off. Gave us a couple droid “parents” as a replacement. As if that made it fucking better.”

It was strange, Jet thought. Kobra was usually seen as the quiet one, while Party burned loud and bright with righteous fury. But now, the script was flipped- Kobra clenched his teeth and his knuckles turned white with anger and hurt, while Party stared out at the sand, no emotion on his face and nothing to say.

It didn’t feel right.

“I’m sorry,” Jet says gently, and Ghoul mumbles the same.

Kobra shrugs, “Whatever,” he smirks humorlessly, raising his glass, “Just another person to avenge, right?”

Ghoul and Jet raised their own glasses in agreement. Party Poison was motionless, still and silent, looking out the window with empty eyes.

The conversation moves on. Party doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Not even when the others stand to head to bed. 

~~

_(Ghoul asks Kobra about it once they’re out of the room, and the younger brother just shakes his head. “He’s never liked talking about our dad. As long as I can remember, he just… shuts down.”_

__

__

_Jet asks Party when he finds him in the same spot hours after the rest have fallen asleep. “Some things are just better left unsaid,” he smiled, holding a finger to his lips, “Just another thing to take to the grave, right?”)_


	2. Three Years Earlier

Technically, Fun Ghoul and Jet Star met both Venom Brothers at the same time, but it was easy to forget. 

The two had been working together for over a year, running jobs for Dr. Death and scouring the desert for a long term base. They were on their way to look over a diner they’d started hesitantly stocking up when Ghoul started slapping Jet’s arm.

“Hey! Hey! Pull over, we got a beat down!”

Jet is positive that deep down, Ghoul really cares about protecting people and taking down BL/i. But he also just really, really loved a good fight, and that part was usually louder.

Point in case, Jet had barely slowed down when the shorter boy was hanging out the passenger window, letting out a loud cheer as he fired into what Jet could now see was about a dozen desert dwellers pushing around some kid. It always pissed Jet off what assholes certain gangs in the desert were. He couldn’t understand why they would waste time fighting each other when they could all be fighting a singular enemy.

Fortunately (or unfortunately if you asked Fun Ghoul), the sound of laser fire sent most of the group scattering, running for their cars and bikes and kicking up dust as they hit the gas and sped away. When Jet finally brought the trans am to a stop, watching the gang disappear down the road, Ghoul hopped out and approached the remaining figure, Jet quickly following.

“Yo dude!” Ghoul called out, “You alright-”

He’s cut off as the kid straightens up rapidly and whips his arm out, holding out a broken bottle as a threat. There’s so much red, they can’t quite figure out where it begins or ends. Wild red hair transitions to red blood streaked down from the boy’s forehead and his nose and his lips, dripping onto a stained hoodie, coating his hands and the gleaming shards of the bottle.

When he snarls, they see red coating his teeth, too.

“Back the fuck up!” he snaps, his eyes frantic and furious as he stares down the two newcomers. 

There’s not really much of a threat- Ghoul and Jet have blasters and this kid has a handful of broken glass- but they still back up to give him some space, Ghoul holding his hands up in surrender, “Gee, you’re welcome,” he responds sarcastically.

“Fine. Thanks,” the redhead grinds out, body stiff and coiled, ready to bolt if needed, “Now get the fuck back in your car and drive away.”

Fun Ghoul looks like he’s torn, but it’s Jet’s bleeding heart that keeps them there, “Kid, you’re obviously hurt,” he gestures to the blood and the way he’s got one arm wrapped around his middle as if to hold himself together, “We can help.”

The kid scowls, “Fuck off.”

And then, before either can respond in one way or another, a forth voice chimes in.

“Party.”

Ghoul and Jet nearly jump out of their skin, because the voice is from another kid that is standing literally directly behind the redhead. He’s skinny, with bright blonde hair, and he looks to be a couple inches taller than the boy in front of him, leaving them completely baffled as to how they hadn’t noticed him before.

(The answer, they’ll learn later, is because of Party. It was like an art, the way the older boy always knew exactly what to do to force people to look at _him_. To pay attention to _him_. 

To aim at _him_.) 

(They’ll learn later, Party has enough scars for two.)

The redhead tensed up, his eyes never leaving the two killjoys in front of him, even as the blonde leaned in, “Party, we don’t have the supplies to handle some of these wounds,” he reasoned softly. “There’s two of us and two of them- worst case scenario you know we can take them.”

Jet punched Ghoul in the shoulder before the other could comment on that remark. It was sad to see the two kids so untrusting, but given the situation they had found them in, he figured it made sense.

“We’ve got some basic shit in our car, we can start with that,” he couldn’t invite them to their potential base without discussing it with Ghoul first, so he figured this was a good compromise. The redhead- Party, the other boy had called him- still hadn’t lowered the bottle, looking like he was about to either bolt or throw up.

“Come on,” the blonde reassured him, “It’ll be fine.”

There is a lot of reluctance in Party’s body when he finally lowers his arm and allows his makeshift weapon to slip from his fingers. The other boy murmured in his ear for a moment before slowly moving to put his arm around his shoulder, helping to support the injured boy as they made their way towards the trans am.

“I’m Jet Star, by the way,” he introduced as he popped the trunk to get at the first aid kit, “The little guy is Fun Ghoul.”

“I’m Kobra Kid,” the blonde answers, “this is my brother, Party Poison.”

“Wait, like, _actual_ brother?” Ghoul exclaimed.

“Uh, yeah?” Kobra looked at him in confusion as he helped Party to sit on the edge of the trunk.

“That’s crazy! I don’t think I’ve ever met like, actual blood siblings before.”

“You’re welcome,” Party mumbled sarcastically, throwing Ghoul a bloody smile.

Jet shook his head in amusement as he opened up the med kit. He was starting to pull some items out when Kobra leaned in to speak softly, “Here, let me,” reaching out to take some of the gauze and antiseptic.

“I don’t mind-”

“I know,” Kobra whispered quickly, “and we appreciate it, really, but…” he glanced over at his brother, “This will go a lot faster and easier if you just let me do it.”

Frowning, Jet nodded and nudged the supplies closer to the blonde, receiving a grateful smile in response. Ghoul and Jet chattered mindlessly about their lives as Kobra slowly and carefully cleaned the deeper cuts and bandaged the ones that needed it. By then end, Party Poison looked rough but clean, and the other pair felt comfortable enough to start asking questions.

“What zone are you guys from? We know almost everyone out here and I don’t recognize either of you,” Ghoul commented.

The brother’s exchanged a quick look before Party responded, “We’ve actually only been out here for about six months now.”

Jet blinked in surprise, “You guys are from the city?”

“Yup,” Party shrugged casually, but Jet couldn’t help but notice how he kept his body between them and Kobra.

“Damn, that’s awesome!” Ghoul immediately exclaimed, causing the brothers to jump in surprise, “I’ve never met city kids before! Did you guys escape with anyone else?”

“Uh, no, just us.”

“That is so badass.”

“You guys got out of there alone?” Jet asked, “How old are you, anyway?” They looked so young.

“I’m eighteen, Kobra is fifteen.”

“Oh, you’re the same age as Jet!” Ghoul replied to the redhead, “I’m sixteen,” he said proudly.

“Good for you,” Party responded, “Well, this has been fun. Thank you for your help, but we’ll be on our way now.”

“Do you guys have a ride?” Jet asked.

“We’ve got a bike,” Kobra pointed into the distance, and if they squinted, Ghoul and Jet could just make out a heap of metal that could possibly pass as a motorcycle. The two zone runners looked at each other, sharing a silent conversation before the shorter boy turned to the brothers.

“Do you guys need a place to crash?”

It takes a bit of convincing. Kobra is relieved because they did, indeed, need a place to crash. Party bristles because he’s hurt and these are two strangers and his brother is too trusting and he’d much rather just crawl under a rock thank you very much. But eventually, Kobra talks him into staying for at least a night so they can come up with a plan since most of their supplies got trashed by the gang they’d run in with. They follow Ghoul and Jet to the diner, all four of them settling in and something just seems to click. Even Party Poison, who doesn’t sleep for three days in order to keep an eye on Kobra and keeps a healthy distance between himself and the other two, can’t deny that something about this feels right.

One night turns to two. Then a week. Then Fun Ghoul jokingly refers to them as the “Fab Four”. 

The name sticks.


	3. Present Day

The subject of parents doesn’t come up again, and the Killyjoys slide back into their own brand of normalcy. Party and Ghoul blow shit up and laugh maniacally, Kobra does increasingly dangerous stunts on his bike with a completely deadpan expression, and Jet Star works out the logistics to try to steal an entire vending machine. Before he gets a chance to put his plan into action though, the four get a radio call from Doctor Death Defying. Always eager for a little action, the boys waste no time jumping into the Trans Am, cranking their music as high as it’ll go and racing off to the radio station.

They’re all laughing, making no effort to be serious in the face of a potential mission or job, Ghoul hanging off of Jet’s shoulders as they burst into the studio. But the older man is used to it, shaking his head fondly as he swiftly turned off his mic to prevent the boys from broadcasting their shenanigans.

“Hey Doctor D!” Ghoul grinned, releasing Jet and leaning forward to give the radio host a quick hug.

“Always good to see you boys,” he smiled, pushing his glasses to the top of his head.

“You got a job for us? Your message was pretty vague, even for you,” Kobra asked.

“Actually no,” the older man replied, “Show Pony actually has a little gift for our very own Venom Bros.”

Party and Kobra exchanged a look as Pony skated over to them with a smirk, “I’ve been doing some undercover BL/ind trouble-making,” they explained, “scrambling their computers, changing passwords, the usual. On my way out I deleted as many files as I could and grabbed an armful of hard copies,” they rolled over to a precariously stacked pile of manilla folders, patting the top proudly, “figured they’d make some good kindling. But then I noticed…” they trailed off with a sing-song voice, grabbing two of the files and holding them out to the brothers.

They grabbed them, and both of their eyes widened, Kobra looking up and laughing, “No way! You got _our_ files?”

“Unfortunately they still know you exist, seeing as how you’ve made a bit of a name for yourselves out here,” Pony pinched Kobra’s cheek, laughing as Party ducked out of their reach before they could ruffle his hair, “but at least they don’t know your blood type anymore.”

“Fuck, _I_ don’t even know my blood type,” Party laughed. Reaching over he made grabby hands at Kobra, “Let me see yours, I wanna see how much your teachers hated you!”

“Only if I can see yours, you’re probably the reason Korse’s hair fell out!” Kobra snickered as they swapped files.

Ghoul leaned over the redhead’s shoulder, trying to catch glances of the notes, “Awwwww, Kobra you look so little!” he cooed over the photo stapled to the corner of a young Kobra Kid, probably only eight years old.

“Oh shit, I wanna see!” Jet exclaimed, moving away from Kobra to hover over Party.

“I knew you guys would have fun with this,” Pony laughed, leaning against the wall next to Dr. Death, who was chuckling at the boys’ antics. Jet and Ghoul giggled over the pictures of the brothers when they were small, looking both adorable in their youth, yet also somewhat sad with their blank expressions and lack of color anywhere. For a few minutes, the room filled with pleasant chatter and chuckling in between the rustle of paper.

“Poison.”

Then, the whole room goes silent at Kobra’s cold voice. When they turn to look, he is staring down at one of the files, his face is blank, but they can all see the tension in his jaw and the way the folder crinkles under the grip of his shaking hands.

Party steps forward immediately, eyes filled with concern, “Kid? What’s wrong?” He reaches out, but freezes when his brother jerks away from him harshly.

Kobra’s head snaps up, fixing Party with a fiery glare, “Why does your file state that you were the one who reported our dad to BL/i?”


	4. Three Years Earlier

It takes over a month before Jet Star and Fun Ghoul are able to touch Party Poison. 

They don’t notice right away. After all, Party mostly keeps close to Kobra, and he seems pretty high strung, so they figure it’s just a matter of him learning to trust them. They’re not unfamiliar with the idea of trust needing to be earned, and they can only imagine how city living and desert gangs have messed up the boys’ heads. But as they days pass, they come to realize that Party and Kobra are on very different pages.

“Don’t take it personally,” Kobra told them nonchalantly after his brother had skittered away from Jet’s attempt to pat his back. The blonde has had no trouble sliding seamlessly into place with the other boys. “He’s been like that as long as I can remember. He _hates_ being touched.”

Jet frowns, thinking back to when they had first met and Kobra had insisted on treating Party’s wounds himself, “He seems fine with you.” Party and Kobra often curled up together at night, or when the younger boy wasn’t feeling well.

Kobra snorted, “He _tolerates_ me, and only because I’m his brother and he’s always making exceptions for me.” He frowned to himself before continuing, “Look, he really does like you guys, okay? Just… don’t push him.”

It took some effort- Ghoul and Jet were both affectionate people- but they didn’t want to hurt the other boy, not even unintentionally. And they could see what Kobra meant. As he slowly let his guard down, as he stopped keeping his body between them and his brother, it was easy to see that he cared for them. He had their backs on jobs, and laughed along with them when they goofed off at the diner even as he continued to flinch when they got too close. 

Then one night, weeks after the crew has come together, Ghoul finds himself tossing and turning, feeling restless and itchy, like he needs to run or drive or blow something up. Sighing, he finally stood, tip-toeing out of his and Jet’s room in an effort not to wake the older boy- the two of them had turned an old office into their bedroom, while Party and Kobra had taken over an old storage room. He’s so focused on closing the door quietly that he nearly jumps out of his skin when he turns and sees a dark silhouette standing in the center of the dining room. As his eyes adjusted, he was quickly able to make out bright red hair, and sighed in relief.

“Destroya, Party, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” He clutched his chest as he whispered furiously.

Party left out a huff of laughter, “Damn, I’ll have to try harder next time.”

Ghoul rolled his eyes, stepping forward, “What are you doing out here, anyway? Can’t sleep?”

“I was gonna ask you the same question,” Party raised an eyebrow.

“Eh, was feeling restless,” he shrugged, “You?”

“Hm. I don’t sleep much,” the redhead admitted, “I usually just keep watch out here.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” the shorter boy asked, “Jet claims I’m a good listener,” he joked lightly.

Party turns to him with a look of surprise, not expecting the offer. After a moment of silence, he slowly shakes his head, “Not much to talk about. I just…” he trails off, looking out the window to the dark desert landscape.

Frowning, Ghoul thinks about the dark circles that seem permanently etched under Party’s eyes. He thinks of the first days after the brothers joined them when Party didn’t sleep at all. He thinks of how bad he wants them all to be in this together.

“Hey,” he starts hesitantly, “You know Jet and I would never, like… _do_ anything to you or Kobra, right?”

“I know!” he answers immediately, and Ghoul feels a little bad for asking when he sees the guilty look on the other boy’s face, the redhead rushing to reassure him, “It’s not like, you guys specifically or anything. It’s just a general, I dunno, just…” his arms wave around his face, brows furrowed as he tried to find a way to explain.

Ghoul cocks his head to the side and figures that at this point Party knows he has no filter so he doesn’t think before saying, “BL/ind really did a number on you, huh?”

Party’s head snaps up, and for a moment he just blinks at the shorter boy. Then he bursts out laughing. Ghoul is a little afraid that he somehow broke the killjoy, or crossed some line, but then the redhead scrubs a hand harshly over his face and shakes his head. When he grins, his teeth are white but Ghoul feels like he can see the echoes of blood on them.

“It’d be easier if it was just BL/ind.”

He moves to one of the booths, sliding to sit on top of the table, head down and shoulders slumped.

“What do you mean?” Fun Ghoul asks hesitantly, moving to lean against the table beside him.

Poison hums, shrugging and turning his face away so his hair can hang like a curtain between them, “Better Living doesn’t have a monopoly on monsters.”

And now that he says it, Ghoul knows what he means. Dracs aren’t the only ones in the desert he’s had to defend himself from, and it wasn’t BL/ind hurting Party when he and Jet found the brothers. He nods slowly, and is still trying to think of a response when Party sighs.

“Maybe that’s not fair though,” he says softly, more to himself than Ghoul, “I think I’m fucked up just… because I’m fucked up.” He shrugs again, “I don’t think I can really blame anyone else for that.”

Ghoul considers that for a moment. He understands what the other boy means- has felt that way himself even- but it doesn’t feel right. Desert living has taught him to trust his instincts, and right now his instincts are telling him that even if Party Poison says it with conviction, even if he really thinks that it’s true, it’s not.

“Can I put my arm around you?”

Party sucks in a breath as he turns to look at him, “...What?”

“Can I put my arm around your shoulders?” Ghoul repeats, “I want to comfort you, but I’m shit with words.” 

He thinks back on every time he’s seen Party and Kobra interact. How Kobra will always lean in and mumble something in Party’s ear before pulling him into a hug, or holding his hand, or ruffling his hair. It hadn’t occurred to him before tonight that maybe the younger boy was telling his brother what he was going to do. Letting him know so he wouldn’t catch him off guard. So he wouldn’t scare him.

Maybe that’s what he and Jet have been doing wrong. They haven’t given him a chance to decide if he was okay or not.

And it does take him a minute to decide, staring at Ghoul searchingly with a slight tremor in his hands until he wraps his arms around his stomach to hide it. Finally, he looks down at the floor and nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He double checks, and when he gets another soft nod, he scoots over a little closer. Poison still isn’t looking at him, and his whole body is coiled tight like a spring. Ghoul is even more certain that there is definitely someone else to blame for this. This isn’t Party’s fault.

He can feel the redhead holding his breath when he slides his arm around his shoulder, but he pushes on, tugging the older boy just a little closer, enough for their shoulders to press together. He waits until he feels Poison exhale shakily before letting his thumb stroke soothing circles against his shoulder. Neither of them speak, but Ghoul thinks maybe they don’t need to.

It’s easier after that night. Party Poison still loses the color in his face if they try to touch him without warning, and anyone outside of his three crew mates are kept at arm's length. But Jet and Ghoul keep asking and Party stops hesitating to say okay, and Kobra smiles at them gratefully from over his brother’s shoulder.

They still fight dracs and exterminators. But, Ghoul thinks, sometimes healing can be a rebellion too.


	5. Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter and also the longest because I'm shit at pacing. Yeet.

The breath leaves Party’s lungs in a single gust, like he’d been punched in the stomach. His chest aches as he struggles to find an inhale. “I-...” his eyes are wide, filled with horror and terror and desperation. But not confusion.

And that’s what stands out to Kobra the most, “ _Why_ ,” he repeats, shoving the file into his brother’s chest, ignoring the way Party flinched, “are you listed as the one who turned him in? Why the _hell_ is there a note saying that _you_ were the one who brought our dad’s _non-compliance_ to their attention?!” His voice rises steady as he speaks, until he finds himself shouting, stepping forward to get into his brother’s face, the redhead backing away until his back hit the wall.

“I-I…” Party’s voice is breathy and weak, unable to meet Kobra’s eyes as his body began to shake.

“Well?!” Kobra snapped.

“Kid-” Jet stepped forward, hoping to de-escalate the situation, but Kobra shoved him away the second he touched his shoulder.

“No! I want answers!” He glowered down at Party, “This whole time, you were the one who got him taken away, and I want to know why.”

“I- I didn’t-...”

“What, did they offer you something?”

That had Party looking up, confused and horrified, “What? No, I-”

“Did they bribe you? Say they’d give you whatever you want? Tell you you could have anything if you did what they said?”

“No! I was just-”

“Then what? Did they threaten you? Trick you? Or were you mad at dad?” Kobra’s voice is cruel as he sneers, “He send you to bed without dessert and so you threw a tantrum and went crying to BL/i?” 

“Stop it!” Party snapped back, shoving Kobra back to give himself some space, “It wasn’t like that! You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about! You don’t know a fucking thing!” His body was trembling with desperation and panic.

Jet and Ghoul didn’t know what to do. They felt frozen in place as they watched the brothers fight, unsure of who to side with after so long of being on the same side. Show Pony and Dr. D looked on in concern and confusion, both braced to enter the fray if needed.

“Then explain it to me,” Kobra threw his hands out, “Tell me what fucking reason you had to have our father taken away!”

“Kobra, please, you don’t-”

“That file says _you_ went to _them_!” The blonde pointed viciously at where the folder was laying on the floor, “You reported our dad! He’s probably dead because of you! I deserve to know why-”

“ _Because he was going to hurt you!!_ ”

Party’s voice is shrill when he screams, and the words feel like a physical hit to Kobra’s body. Party’s chest is heaving, eyes clenched shut and hands shaking at his sides. Kobra doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. It feels like the blind rage has been blown away, leaving only confusion in its wake.

“What are you talking about?” His voice is still sharp- he can’t help it. He feels like he’s back in the body of that ten year old child he used to be. Hurt, and angry, and emotional in a way he wouldn’t learn to control for years.

But his brother doesn’t answer him; doesn’t say anything. Just sucks in a shuddering breath.

And runs.

He darts around Kobra and bolts from the room like he was running for his life, hair flaring out behind him like a flame. Jet and Ghoul call after him, but Kobra just stands, staring at the space where his brother was a moment before- where he had been yelling at his brother a moment before. 

Where did all the rage go? Now he just feels empty. Empty, and confused, with more questions than he started with.

A hand falls on his shoulder and he nearly jumps. When he turns, Ghoul is looking at him with concern. “Jet’s gonna go find him,” he says, and Kobra is suddenly aware that they are the only ones left in the room, “Cherri said we could borrow his bike, to give you both a bit of space.”

When he thinks about it, it makes sense, Kobra knows that. Letting them both ride back to the diner separately so they can cool down and gather themselves before the inevitable talk they clearly need to have. Still. It feels like he’s abandoning him.

“Fuck,” Kobra’s voice is soft and breathless. He reaches up to press his fists harshly against his eyes, “ _Fuck_!”

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay-”

“How do you know?” Kobra snaps, not angry, really, but still feeling emotional and raw, “I don’t- I don’t even know what he meant, and he-... and I said all those things and-”

“Kobra, just breathe for a second,” Ghoul instructs, rubbing his hand up and down the younger boy’s back. “Whatever is going on, you two will figure it out. Party _loves_ you, and I know you love him. If anyone can fix whatever the fuck just happened, it’s you two.”

Inhaling deeply, Kobra let his hands drop to his sides, staring at the wall in front of him again. It had been a long time since he had felt so unsteady, so uncertain. His eye caught on the folder on the floor, pages spilling from it. He wishes he had never looked at it. With one last breath, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving the file on the ground behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes almost two hours after Ghoul and Kobra return to the diner for Jet to enter the building. Ghoul was in one of the back rooms to give Kobra some space, so the blonde was the only one there when the older boy entered. His head snapped up, looking at him questioningly when he saw that he was alone. For a heartstopping moment, he thought that maybe Party had left.

Jet smiled comfortingly as he slid into the booth to sit across from him, “It took me awhile to coax him back with me,” he explained, “He didn’t seem ready to come inside yet though, so I left him in the car.”

Kobra nodded slowly. “Did he… did he say anything?”

There’s a pause as Jet looks down at the table, tapping his fingers in consideration, “Nothing helpful,” he finally answers. When Kobra raises his eyebrows, silently asking for more, he sighs, “He didn’t explain anything. Just went on about you hating him, and hating himself, and how he didn’t know what to do.”

That makes Kobra wince because, yeah, that sounds like Party. His brother tried so hard to seem invincible, that sometimes even Kobra forgot the tangled mess of self worth he carried around inside of himself.

He startles when Jet reaches over to cover his hand with his own, “Are you okay?”

“...I don’t know,” Kobra answers honestly. His heart hurt with old grief and new fear, and it mixed together like oil and water in his veins.

“Talk to him,” Jet says, “I get the feeling there’s something... _else_ here. Something's not right.”

Kobra agreed.

Outside, night has fallen, the air still warm with residual daytime heat that would soon be swept away by the cold, biting night winds. Kobra’s breath hitches when he sees the car empty. He rushes over to the vehicle, looking through the windows in case his brother had laid down, but he’s nowhere to be seen. 

Glancing around himself, he tries not to freak out, but the whole day is making it sort of hard. Logically, he knows Poison wouldn’t run off into the desert in the middle of the night- the diner isn’t in walking distance to anywhere safe- but he also fears how logically his brother is thinking right now. 

Kobra isn’t stupid. He knows that he is his brother’s weak point. Slitting Party’s throat probably would have hurt him less than Kobra’s words back at the radio station. 

He knows Party isn’t inside, because he would have seen him enter, so he circles to the back of the building, where they keep their bikes and miscellaneous parts, gear, and other junk. The redhead is nowhere to be seen, and for a moment he worries that maybe he really did leave, but then his eyes catch on the rusty ladder precariously attached to the side of the diner.

When they had first really started fixing up the diner, Jet had wanted to tear the ladder down, convinced that one of the idiots he called crew mates would end up getting themselves killed. He was outvoted though when the others brought up that they needed roof access for several reasons. And if one of those reasons was so Party, Kobra, and Ghoul could try to throw paper airplanes into Jet’s hair while he worked on the car, well, that didn’t negate any of the legitimate reasons.

Carefully, Kobra makes his way up the ladder, the wind blowing some of his hair into his eyes when he finally reaches the top. Glancing across the space, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he sees Party Poison sitting in the corner facing away from the ledge, his knees to his chest as he smoked a cigarette slowly. The redhead doesn’t look up as Kobra approaches, but he seems to curl into himself when he sits beside him.

No matter how scared he is for what is to come, Kobra doesn’t allow himself any hesitation. “I’m sorry.”

Poison’s body jerks a bit in surprise, finally turning to look at him with wide, guilty eyes, “What? No! Kid, you don’t have anything to-”

“Bullshit!” He snaps back, and Party’s teeth click shut. Sighing through his nose, Kobra forces himself to speak calmly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all those things. I shouldn’t have yelled at you at all. After everything we’ve been through, you’ve more than earned the benefit of the doubt. I should have given you a chance to tell me your side before I exploded.”

For a moment, Party simply stared at him, turning the words over in his mind. Then he shook his head, turning away and taking another long drag of his cigarette. “I deserved it,” he answered softly.

Kobra couldn’t help but snort, “You think you deserve it every time a Drac shoots you, I don’t think you’re the best judge of what you deserve.”

“I think we’ve established you don’t know everything about me,” Poison gave a humorless grin, “so maybe _you’re_ not the best judge of what I deserve.”

“Then _tell_ me!” Kobra couldn’t keep the note of exasperation out of his voice, practically pleading, “You were right, I have no fucking idea what’s going on! But whatever it is it’s obvious that you shouldn’t be carrying it alone, so explain it to me!”

For a moment, the two brothers simply stare at each other, and Kobra can see a war happening behind Poison’s eyes. Finally, after several long moments, the redhead swallows thickly, looking away as he grinds the end of his cigarette into the ground with a trembling hand.

“I thought I was protecting you,” Party admits softly, his voice wavering, “from the very beginning, I really thought I was keeping you safe, I swear,” his voice cracks and he quickly presses his fists against his eyes. “But now I-...” his breath stutters, “I don’t know anymore. Maybe I was just trying to protect myself, maybe… maybe this whole time I’ve just been being selfish.”

Kobra feels his heart clench in his chest. His whole life, as long as he could remember, he has never heard his big brother cry. He has, despite Poison’s best efforts, _seen_ him cry. But Poison had the eerie habit of crying completely silently. Even now, if Kobra closed his eyes he would never know, nothing but the wind to break the silence. 

It suddenly hits him how little practice he has in comforting Party, and he hates that he was the one to cause this. Because even if Party was doubting himself at the moment, Kobra realizes that he really has always protected him, always done anything and everything for Kobra even if it meant ignoring his own needs. How could Kobra have ever accused Party of any of those things? How could he have so quickly jumped to such terrible conclusions when his brother had never done anything to deserve it?

He moves slowly, because Party is still covering his eyes and he doesn’t want to make the situation worse by touching him without warning. “Hey, hey, Party,” he tries to find the voice that Party uses to soothe him, “It’s okay, I’m right here,” he brushes his fingers against his brother’s shoulder, and he feels a shudder go through the redhead, but he doesn’t pull away, and so Kobra allows himself to rub his back softly.

It takes a few minutes, Kobra whispering comforting nonsense while Poison just breathes, keeping his hands against his eyes as he pulls himself together. Finally, he sits up, inhaling deeply as he swiftly swiped at his face, wiping away the only evidence that he had broken down at all. Kobra opened his mouth, but before he could speak Poison cut in.

“You don’t remember mom,” he began, his voice soft as he started the story he had never planned on telling, “but you also don’t remember right _after_ mom. Dad was… a mess.” His eyes drifted closed, getting lost in the memories, “First he just… cried, all the time. Wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat, just cried and cried and cried. Eventually BL/i intervened when he stopped showing up to his job. Gave him a new prescription and a warning.”

He’s right, Kobra doesn’t remember any of that. Party ran a hand through his hair and looked anywhere but at his brother, “I think it was supposed to kill the depression, and I guess it did, in a way. But only enough that he could function- show up to his job and shit, y’know? But it didn’t make him… okay. He went to work, and made it home before curfew, and started stocking up on black market booze.”

That caught Kobra off guard, “Dad drank?”

“Dad drank a _lot_ ,” Poison admitted, and Kobra is suddenly uncomfortably reminded of the fact that his brother doesn’t drink at all. “He played the BL/i part during the day, put on a straight face and did what they expected of him, and then at night he fell apart. It was like that for awhile, and then....” he trailed off, a far away look in his eyes.

“...And then?” Kobra prompted, after the silence stretched on.

Blinking out of his stupor, Party shook his head lightly to clear his head, “Right, yeah, I…” he took a deep breath, looking to Kobra like he was bracing himself for a blow, “It was maybe a year or so after mom had died. Dad had been given a lower dose of whatever they’d had him on before. And then one night, when he was drunk, he came into my room.”

Kobra felt something ominous in his bones, like seeing a storm on the horizon.

“He was crying,” Party continued, eyes glazed as he stared at his knees, “He was crying, and he sat on the edge of my bed and started going on about how much I looked like mom. He said I had her eyes, and her face, that I looked just like her. That my skin was just as soft as hers.”

His brother doesn’t like to be touched.

Where was this going. Kobra didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, obviously wasn't understanding, he was overthinking this, it wasn’t, it couldn't be-

“He kept coming back,” Poison admitted, wrapping his arms around his stomach and dropping his chin to his chest, “Sometimes... he would call me by her name, like he wasn’t even seeing me at all. Just pretended I was her and told me how much he missed me, how lonely he’d been, _how good I felt-_ ” his voice cracked, and his eyes clenched shut and Kobra felt like he was going to be sick.

No. No no no no-

“Party-” He cuts himself off because he doesn’t want to cry, can’t cry, not now, if he does he just knows that Poison will try to comfort him and he couldn’t live with himself if he made this about himself.

“But the thing is,” Party choked out, “The thing is, things got better,” he let out a huff of hysterical laughter, “Dad got better. He- he seemed happier during the day, and he got taken off the BL/i drugs, and he started spending more time with you. Actually being a dad to you, y’know? And… and he was still drinking, but less than before. It was such a small thing, in the long run. I-... I stayed quiet a couple nights a week so you wouldn’t wake up, and... you got your dad back.” 

Kobra hates that his brother is trying to justify what happened by mentioning how it managed to make Kobra’s life better. And he hates even more that he _does_ remember that part. Remembers how his father started asking him about his day and his classes, started helping him with his homework and smiling at him. Remembers how lucky he had felt.

_“he was never as mindless and robotic as most of the other adults, y’know? He was more… there”_

That’s what he had said to Jet and Ghoul. How much had that comment hurt his brother? How much had it just solidified his belief that what happened was somehow okay?

“But…” The words feel stuck in Kobra’s throat even though all he wants to do is scream, “But it was… was a few years before you turned him over-”

“I know,” Party interrupts frantically, “I know, and I’m _sorry_ , I wouldn’t have but-”

“Party, hey, no, I-”

“Everything was fine, it was fine, I wouldn’t have done anything but he-” Party is close to hyperventilating, digging his nails into his arms as he desperately tried to explain himself, “He said- one day, after school, you were sitting together at the table, and he said something about how- h-how you were... “looking more like mom every day”.”

It feels like ice water in Kobra’s veins as he takes those words in. It feels worse when fresh tears escape his brother’s eyes.

“I’d never even considered,” he says shakily, “that I might not be enough. That he might-” he shakes his head, his hair falling to cover his face, “I didn’t sleep for three days. I kept watching your door, waiting to make sure that the nights when he came out he would come to me. But fuck, Kid, I was so _scared_.” His body is shaking with the force of the admission, “I was terrified that I would slip up, that I’d miss something or fall asleep and I wouldn’t be there to protect you and I couldn’t- I couldn’t let him hurt you like that, I couldn’t take that chance.” The tears are flowing steadily and Kobra’s heart is shattering. 

Kobra suddenly remembers just how young his brother is as the redhead cries softly, “I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do, so I filed a report with BL/i about dad’s alcohol stash. I thought that maybe they would… I don’t know, give him more pills or do something and then they’d bring him back and everything would be okay, but they didn’t and I’m _sorry_ , Kobra, I’m _so, so sorry-_ ”

Maybe it’s the wrong thing to do right now, especially given everything he knew before and everything he knows now, but Kobra can’t help it. His arms snap out and he wraps his arms around his older brother and pulls him tight against his chest. He feels the older boy stiffen in his arms, but he still doesn’t let go, pulling him practically onto his lap, tucking Poison’s head beneath his chin and cupping the back of his head, trying for all he’s worth to completely surround him in safety and comfort and love.

He hushes his brother softly in the silence, his brain scrambling with a desperation to fix this, to somehow protect him from something that had already happened. “Don’t apologize,” Kobra’s voice shakes as he fights back sobs, “You have nothing to apologize for, nothing at all. Fuck, Poison, I wish you’d turned him in sooner. _I’m_ sorry, I’m _so fucking sorry!_ ” He holds him tighter, and Party is trembling uncontrollably in his arms, and all he hears is a soft breeze drift past even as he feels tears drip onto his neck and his shirt.

Party had protected him by covering his own mouth for far too long.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, rocking them both gently, “It’s alright. You-” he swallows thickly, closing his eyes, “You don’t have to be quiet anymore, okay? You don’t have to be quiet anymore. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. You can let go now.”

It doesn’t happen right away, but Kobra is patient. He stays, and sits, and holds Party as he fights against years of suffocation; as he struggles to overcome every instinct carved into him to keep his little brother safe by not making a sound. When he finally takes a sharp, audible inhale, and allows a weak sob to escape on the exhale, Kobra starts crying too. It’s still soft, still quiet, but he can hear his brother’s rattling breaths and hitched sobs and it’s a start. 

At least this time, Kobra thinks, they’re crying together.

~

Kobra isn’t sure how long they stay like that, him curled around his older brother while Party gasps and cries into his chest, shaky hands eventually moving to grip the back of his jacket. But eventually the silence returns, both of them worn out and empty. Kobra isn’t ready to let go yet though.

He runs his fingers through dusty red hair and sighs, “I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” his brother answers automatically with a raspy voice.

“It’s not,” Kobra insists, “ _None_ of this is fine, Party. I’m sorry for getting mad at you before you could explain. I’m sorry I never knew-”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Poison sounds so tired, shifting up slightly to rest his head more on Kobra’s shoulder, his eyes downcast. “At first…” his voice is uncertain, “At first I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to... taint your memory of him. I already took your father away, I didn’t want to ruin what you had before, too.” Kobra opens his mouth to respond, but Party continues before he gets the chance, “But now… I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t tell you for selfish reasons. Because I didn’t want you to hate me.” His voice is barely audible by the end of the sentence, a whispered confession against his brother’s shoulder.

Kobra shakes his head firmly, “I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could ever hate you,” he tightens his grip, and he feels like he surely must be hurting Party by this point, but he can’t bring himself to loosen his embrace, and Party hasn’t tried to pull away yet. “And I would have given up any fucking memory of that bastard if it meant keeping you from being hurt.” It’s strange to hear the venom in his own voice as he speaks about the man that a few hours ago he had loved so much. But it doesn’t _feel_ strange. It feels natural. It feels right. He can’t love someone who would hurt his brother so, so badly. Not anyone. 

“I never wanted to make you choose,” Poison says with a pained voice.

Something sharp hits Kobra’s heart, “Did you think I wouldn’t choose you?”

He sucks in a breath, “I-...”

“Party-”

“It’s not fair to ask that of you! I didn’t want to take away the one parent you had left! I just wanted you to be safe-!”

“ _You deserve to be safe, too!_ ”

Kobra finally pulls back, though he can’t bring himself to go far. He leans back just enough to place his hands on either side of Party’s face before pulling him forward to press their foreheads together. His thumbs brush at the dark, make-up stained tear tracks on Party’s cheeks, and looks into eyes that are watery and wide. Kobra doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so lost. 

“I am _not_ the only one worth saving,” Kobra keeps his voice gentle but firm, desperate for Party to understand, “If you had turned dad in to stop him from hurting _you_ , that would have been okay. I do wish you had told me, but if you didn’t because you were scared, that’s okay too.” Party’s eyes fluttered shut, but Kobra still held him, catching slow tears on his fingers, “You’re allowed to protect yourself.”

His brother took a shaky breath, his eyes still closed. He doesn’t answer, and Kobra knows he doesn’t believe him. Not yet. But that’s alright. He thinks it’s his turn to take care of Party now. And he has no problem protecting him until he’s able to protect himself.

It’s getting cold. It’s late, and the day has been long, and hard, and Kobra is pretty sure Poison hasn’t eaten since the morning. They should definitely go inside where there’s food and warmth. They should probably head to bed, and try to rest after the sheer exhaustion of the day- Hell, of the past hour.

But Kobra just holds his brother a little closer for a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I want to add more to this? Vote now on your phones.


End file.
